


Squashed Gardenia

by tennisuhs



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Ambiguous/Open Ending, First Meeting, M/M, Sexual Tension, bc i might do something more with it but i just wanted, chan is the worst vampire pls love him, woochan content so yeah enjoy, woojin is a florist bc yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 14:58:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19112035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tennisuhs/pseuds/tennisuhs
Summary: In some fucked up ways, fate always found him. Whether it be by the pond, some called it a lake, it was a pond. Whether it be on a night stroll, or his head buried in the assignments. Fate always found him.





	Squashed Gardenia

In some fucked up ways, fate always found him. Whether it be by the pond, some called it a lake, it was a pond. Whether it be on a night stroll, or his head buried in the assignments. Fate always found him. 

Found him with his hands fidgeting and his gaze lost. Found him with an unprepared heart that would soon turn coarse. 

Fate found him at the late hours he decided to stay the flower shop. No reason at all, just to enjoy those petals that bloom in the night. 

“Hey, you still open?” 

The boy had been a tornado in the middle of paradise. Swinging the front door open, disregarding the fact that it said pull instead of push, knocking a gardenia with his rush. Woojin saw the poor potted plant fall to its demise, but bewilderment froze him in place, unable to stop the catastrophe.

“Sorry about that.” Blonde curly hair, looked frantic, swooshing and turning as if looking for something. A place to hide, perhaps. 

Woojin remained in place, by the waterfall plants as he observed the scene. A part of him wanting to kick the boy out and call it a night, the other wanted to question him with no remorse. The rest of him, the sleep deprived and probably insane part of him, wanted to see if those curls were as dry as they looked. A very bad toning job done there, Woojin would know, being friends with Yugyeom and all. 

The boy stood in the middle of the small shop, realising there was nothing special about it, and obviously no place to hide. 

His smile from where it was tensed on his lips, fell while his voice wavered. “I am really sorry about the intrusion.” Shoulders also slumped and his whole demeanor revealed what Woojin already knew: the boy was terrified.

“Can I offer you some tea?” Woojin asked, finally letting the water spray on the counter. 

“That’d be delightful, thank you.”

It was rather the adventure to find the electric kettle, since he had dimmed the light just enough to not raise eyebrows, or the bill. Numb fingers, still slightly calloused, searching for the thing amidst the mess that was the claustrophobic backroom. 

When he returned, the boy had taken a seat between the yucas and the ficus, tall plants that were in high demand lately. Woojin all but squatted in front of him with an empty mug. “I’m making some chamomile, I hope that’s okay?”

“You are too kind.” Returned with as much softness and just as low from the stranger. “I’m truly sorry about the plant, I swear I’ll pay for it. As soon as I’m done with the tea you won’t see me again.”

Now, that wasn’t really out of line. The city was big enough for them to become complete strangers after the incident. Honestly, after all these years, Woojin had seen enough people, have met enough strangers, have fallen enough times to know how easy it is to lose someone in the crowd. How quick they become a blurr, one with nothing. 

Yet, Woojin’s movements seemed to slow down as he went to fetch the garbage bag and the broom. 

“No need for that.” He caught himself saying between the loud creaking of the bag. “You are clearly shaken, leave when you feel safe to do so.” 

And with one small smile thrown over his shoulder, Woojin kneeled in front of the dirty and petals scattered over the floor right in the entrance. 

The boy jumped in his seat, mug still in hand when he presented himself next to the florist. “Let me help.” His grip was tight, lip trembling where it stood close, way too close.

Woojin wasn’t aware of how their arms were touching until he pushed himself away. It was like the other didn’t have skin, pure air against Woojin’s flesh. 

“It’s fine.” he managed to say, not really inspiring any serenity. “Just sit and calm down.” He started picking the big pieces of the broken pot. “Tea will be ready in five minutes.”

Then silence fail like the veil of the night. No moon. Lifeless. Stars too shy behind the pollution to blink their wake to the world, the breeze making the outdoors bushes wave softly. Summer was upon them so keeping those beauties inside for the night was a crime. A murmur from the terraces nearby made up the rest of the sound, the city alive even during weeknights. 

Dark brown eyes followed Woojin as he moved around the store, up and down to swipe everything into the garbage can. Then to the backroom to clean his hands, fetch a mug for himself and clean it. Once he came back from throwing the garbage outside, the kettle went off, making the stranger flinch.

On his way to the kettle, Woojin laughed at the boy’s surprise as he recovered from jumping off his seat slightly. 

As he poured the tea on the boy’s mug, he couldn’t help but notice how he didn’t radiate any warmth. Everyone emanates energy, and noticing is a power that came with Woojin’s nature. It was beyond auras or any mystical talk. It was real, tangible. The stranger all but resembled a statue to Woojin. Only his eyes had some sort of spark. And those eyes were fixed on his face, he could feel it as the sound of the water filled the room.

Their gazes met when Woojin deemed the amount of tea acceptable. 

The boy licked his lips. “Thank you.”

Woojin wasn’t a lighthead. 

“You are more than welcome, also can you hold this for me?” He asked as he handed the boy his mug, freeing his hands to pull another chair in front of the other. Still, however keeping a decent distance between the two. 

The mug returned to Woojin’s hands. The boy’s fingers lingered on the touch. It still felt like air, but this time, the florist didn’t mind. 

Smiling as the other took his first sip, Woojin trailed his gaze up and down the stranger, not missing any beat, any silence. Details maketh the man. But before asking about the scarlet pendant around his neck, the rings on his fingers or why the burdeus blazer, Woojin asked.

“What’s your name?”

“Bang Chan.” The boy replied. “You can call me Chris.”

“I’m Woojin.” Normally, he would stretch out his hand as a greeting, because he was a polite member of society. 

However, something made him step on the breaks. Hold his breath. For he knew fully and entirely that if he was to touch the boy-- Bang Chan, Chris and many names before that, certainly-- he might never want to let go. 

So instead, he drank his tea. Burning all the way down to his esophagus. 

“I owe you my life, Woojin.” Chan’s eyes went from his tea to the florist. This time with more discretion. Having crossed the line of strangers, they now shared some sort of bond, which made the both of them shyer. 

Woojin knew how this worked.

By how Chan bit the edge of the mug, he was sure it wasn’t one sided. 

They both have lived that feeling far too many times. 

And yet, that felt like some sort of first time.

“Who are they?” Woojin asked. “I haven’t heard of any hunters around the city, specially not every since the traitee.”

“Not hunters.” Even though Chan was fluent, there was a spark of an accent behind his syllables, something that made Woojin stare not at the ambers of his eyes but at his lips. 

Woojin wasn’t known for his discretion. He wasn’t a vampire, he didn’t have to be discreet. 

“Then?”

“Rival families.” He took another sip, then he sighed and Woojin tried not to notice how the chamomile turned into lavender. “We were at a reunion and one of the bosses drank too much, and suddenly we weren’t welcomed?”

The explanation was weak in the way it was narrated, but the florist would be damned if he hadn’t heard it time and time again. Vampires had their own little society within society. Other immortal creatures didn’t fit in it, not that they wanted to. With all the hierarchy and bureaucracy, moreover all the blood and violence; Woojin was surprised the vampires themselves didn’t put a stop to it.

However, he wasn’t a vampire. So many things he thought and knew were probably based on legends. 

“Were you alone?”  _ Just in case I have to expect all your little gang as well. _

“I wasn’t, but they all could get into the car.” At Woojin’s confusion, Chan continued. “We were chased, right? So ,I was last, trying to distract the big guys. By the time I got out the car wasn’t there.”

Vampires were praised, alabated by their talk. One of their many abilities is to mold words into whatever they wanted, making the strongest willed person turned to putty. Their speech was from the scripts, reminiscent of the times where letters were sealed with wax and people bowed inside palaces.

Bang Chan, on the other hand. Bang Chan was a child of hand gestures and wavering tone, and perhaps unable to stick to one subject. Which made the matter in hand lighter. Loyalty is not a thing for vampires. So, the boy let out a simple giggle, smirk staying only on one side. 

Refreshing. Just like his touch.

Woojin didn’t know he was smiling until the other mimicked him. “What?” he asked almost incredulous but entertained nonetheless.

“Nothing.” he shrugged. “I just pictured you running away from big buffy vampires dressed in all black while the Benny Hill song played in the background.”

The vampire choked on his next sip, covering his mouth as he muffled his laughter. “I guess I’m allowed to laugh at it, now that I’m safe.” he continued once he was sure the liquid would suffocate him. Not that it would matter, Woojin though. Vampires didn’t need to breathe. 

But it did make him seem mortal. No one knows how many tricks vampires practiced to appear normal. Human.

Woojin suppressed a shudder. Instead, he smiled and got up. “I can offer you some cold pizza.” Then he lowered his gaze in shame. “That’s all the food I have right now.”

Chan covered his mouth again, probably his fangs were out. There was nothing to hide, Woojin though, but he wouldn’t be the one to correct what was probably a centuries old habit. “I’m good.” he waved at the other.

“Well, then I’ll help myself.” And, in cue, his stomach rumbled. Loudly.

The vampire whistled and pointed at the counter, his arm inviting him to go. “Please.” He chuckled out.

Only when he came back, delivery carton pizza sitting on his lap, that Chan looked him in the eyes. The way he had when Woojin was pouring him the tea. A way that made Woojin stop, fingers fidgeting and mind lost. Just how fate loved to find him.

“So, what are you?”

“I think you know Cha--”

“Where’s your pack, though?”

“I don’t have a pack.” Woojin’s eyes found the three cold slices of pizza, his smile trying to hold on his lips, grabbing the hems up for dear life. “I’m a runt.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for read my first apportation to the skz ficdom! i just had to write them and btw this all started bc of a tweet saying woojin has scott mccall vibes and it just escalated from there.
> 
> twitter: @moonsdior   
> cc: /youngghos


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